


You, Me, and Emma

by hithelleth



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It used to be Miles, Bass and Emma. They were young and foolish and they thought they would figure everything out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You, Me, and Emma

_“We are old friends.”_

It was Miles, who approached her first, towards the end of the sophomore year.

“My friend likes you.”

He didn’t have to specify who.

Everyone knew them. Miles Matheson, who ignored half girls and the other half were either scared of him or strangely attracted to the bad boy image. Bass – no, Sebastian, because only Miles called him Bass – who was either ignored or doing the ignoring, hidden or hiding behind the firewall that was Miles. One way or another, almost every girl in their grade was somehow heartbroken because of one of them.

Emma was an exception.

_“Just you, me, and Emma. Just like old times, right?”_

They could have just as well been the town’s mascot, Miles and Bass, joined at the hip since the first day of kindergarten when Johnny Wilson threw Bass’ lunch on the floor. Miles punched him in the face, shared his sandwich with Bass and got spanked at home.

People thought they were cute. Most of them. Bass knew Mr Matheson never liked him much, although Aunt Lottie was always nice to him – though Bass only called her Aunt Lottie when Uncle Bill wasn’t around and he only thought of Miles’ dad as Uncle Bill in his head.

As they grew older, people’s looks became suspicious. Mr Matheson stopped pretending to be nice to Bass.

“No son of mine is a faggot,” he told Miles.

The solution was obvious, Miles said, they had to find themselves girlfriends.

It wasn’t like they didn’t find girls interesting. It was just none of them liked Miles and Bass always hanging out together.

Until Emma.

Miles kissed her first while Bass politely looked away.

Bass knew it was different this time. He even made excuses to give them space.

Miles whispered something Bass couldn’t hear into Emma’s ear. She blushed and smiled and looked at Bass the way it made him feel funny – warm and fuzzy, and a little dizzy, and the best he had ever felt – when she disengaged from Miles’ arms and crossed the few feet between them.

She sat in his lap and kissed _him_.

They were Miles, Bass, and Emma after that.

_“You loved me once. I loved you, too.”_

Miles wanted out of that town. There were no jobs – at least not any good ones, he hadn’t got into college, so the Army seemed his best shot, even one Uncle Bill approved of. What was Bass supposed to do? He had good grades, but not good enough for more than the college one town away, the same as Emma. It was not the best idea. Besides, his family could use another pay check.

Emma knew that.

Still, she sighed. “I just wish we'd talked about it before you went off and enlisted.”

“We’ll be all right.”

There was a pang of doubt, a hint of jealousy time and again, when Bass watched them together.

But then they pulled away and Emma smiled at Bass _that_ way while Miles exhaled and relaxed against the stone, glancing happily at Bass and Bass was ashamed to have ever had doubts.

“We’ll serve the contract and then we’ll figure something out.” Miles slurred, on a good way to being drunk when they talked about what next.

Later, when Miles comfortably passed out on the couch and Emma reached out for Bass’ hand and he was as happy as he could be, he actually believed it. That they would be fine, that they would figure everything out.

They were young and foolish then.

_“We've missed you around here.”_

The last day Bass was there was the day of his family’s funeral, the day Miles talked him out of shooting himself. Semi-past loves were the last thing either of them thought of. And the next day they left, because Bass couldn’t stand that everywhere he looked something reminded him of his loved ones.

They kept postponing coming back until it was too late.

The world ended.

Later, it was always another battle, another war, another negotiation. And they have never come back.

***

_“I used to be engaged to her.”_

Miles rolls his eyes, which Jim can’t see. It was what shut down the talking in this conservative little town, so they could stick together. His father still made ill-humoured jokes in lines of “Be careful that the Monroe boy doesn’t steal your girlfriend, son.”

Miles feels bile rise in his throat.

He can’t show it, not in front of the rebels and the Georgians. So he does what he does best – blames Bass and pretends that he knows what he’s doing.

“If this is how Monroe wants to fight, he's got it. He has no idea what he's in for.” He forces himself not to think of Bass as Bass, not to think of himself as Miles – not _that_ Miles anyway – either, and puts some extra anger into his step.

_“My son. Your son.”_

The words echo in Bass’ ears as he clutches his wound with one hand and his head with the other. He has to tell Miles, he thinks, irrationally, before he remembers. It hurts all the more. 

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Good? Bad? These three wouldn't leave me my mind alone. That's my version of how it might have been. 
> 
> Un-beta’d, so quibble away if you see something. Comments are always welcome.


End file.
